


What is Left

by StrandsofNehn



Series: For Lavellan [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition, dragon age: tresspasser
Genre: Angst, Clan Lavellan was killed, F/M, Immediate post trespasser, Lavellan makes to save Solas, Post-Trespasser, Solas made his great reveal, and Lavellan is left to the aftermath, pretty sure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 11:10:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11147211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrandsofNehn/pseuds/StrandsofNehn
Summary: Lavellan is haggard and aching. Her heart is in even worse a state than her arm. She may be crying again. It seems to be all that's left to do. She had always meant to see him again. Just not like this.Not like this.Inspired bythistumblr edit.





	What is Left

**Author's Note:**

> Set immediately after Solas leaves us without an arm. Way to be, asshole.

Oh, Lavellan was angry at first. It’s always her first instinct when her heart has been sucker-punched. Hot, unflinching anger reared its ugly head at the hurt that tore through her just as the light in her hand tore through her body. Blinding, piercing and world shattering-- sudden. Unexpected. 

But then, that wasn't exactly true, was it?

He had warned her. From the beginning, he had. _“It would be kinder in the long run.”_ Gods, she almost wished she'd listened. Almost. Just as the pain that wielding the mark caused her was a sign of things to come, his hesitation was a sign of future heartache. But there was nothing for it; Lavellan didn't know how to do things halfway. Doesn't. It isn't in her nature. Caring for Solas, just like caring for the Inquisition, became something her whole heart committed to.

Lavellan’s manner may be reserved but her emotions run deep.

It was a similarity that captivated her in Solas. He felt things, felt them deeply. His conviction for his treasured beliefs and ideals, for freedom from tyranny and oppression in all its forms for all forms of people, it drew her in. A man with a heart so convicted was a man worth knowing. So, she pursued a tentative friendship with him. Tentative only because of how he spoke of her people but that, along with his other rough edges of callousness and moments of pretentiousness, eventually smoothed out into the beginnings of understanding. Then it was a different sort of tentative. Her interest developed. Developed into a gentle affection for the man. Solas. The outlier and mysterious apostate.

Lavellan was not a child, she knew her heart. She knew once she took that step there would be no going back. Not for her.

Yet, she took it anyway. How could she not? With Solas looking at her like that?

He kissed like a man possessed. Like she was air and he was drowning-- nevermind how overused the phrase may be. That was the _feeling._ What _he_ felt like. Essential. Treasured. Hers.

Not actually _hers,_ of course. The sentiment of possessing another person to be possessed by them in turn has never been one she's been keen on. But he was hers in the sense that Solas-- since she awoke in chains with bleeding magic in her palm-- he was the first choice she made for herself.

And he had chosen her in reply. Until he didn't.

In that clearing… the anger she found herself drowning in, that he poured over her with one simple sentence, with an _apology--_

It wasn't because she truly hated him or anything of the like. No. It was because she was so, so angry with herself. _He had warned her_. And she took the plunge anyway. _Foolish. Foolish. Foolish._ She felt like a teenager again, her heart broken for the first time. It enraged her. She was supposed to be wiser. Wiser than to give herself away to a man who told her upfront he would hurt her. What imbecile goes into a relationship-- if that word could encompass the tangle of hearts they were-- knowing their heart would break?

Lonely wretches who need an escape. Who need someone. Fools who are lucky enough to find a kindred soul in another-- who simply could not let the treasure of being loved and understood pass. Lavellan can admit that she was that person. Now, at least.

Now that she isn’t filled with that hurt-fueled rage that spouted such… petty things at the person she loved-- _loves--_ in a Crestwood clearing.

_“Say you never cared for me.”_

_“I can't do that.”_

No. He couldn't.

_“Ma haral lasa.”_

_“Only by omission.”_

That doesn't make it better, vhenan, that makes it so much worse.

But Lavellan isn't mad. Not anymore. Desolate. Despairing. Devastated. All those words are apt to describe her. Ripped at the seams where such careful thread stitched her back together after that fateful conversation and more still after he left her for good. She understands now. And perhaps that is the biggest hurt he could have bestowed on her.

_Would you have ever sought me out, vhenan? If you hadn't sentenced me to an early death? Would you have ever faced me again?_

_Would you have simply waited in another world? Praying to whatever god is left that the remains of my rare and marvelous spirit roamed there, too?_

_Will you ever give me the chance to say how I love you, too?_

It was perhaps her biggest regret, crumpled before the eluvian, holding her arm that no longer felt anything and not being able to help savoring Solas’ kiss on her lips. She never told him. But she had never hidden it.

“ _Var lath vir suledin.”_

But she had never declared it. Never spoke it back to him. And he had told her so _early._

_“Ar lath, ma vhenan.”_

It had taken her by surprise on that balcony. He saw it. The shock. But he never saw the look of understanding pool in her eyes; he turned and left so quickly. She had thought him scared or rebuffed but was too stunned by the impossibility that he _loved_ her to call him back. She should have. _She should have._ But he left. Scared and rebuffed not by her but by his own machinations. By the misguided voice of reason in his head that spews such _nonsense_. That he doesn't deserve her. He doesn't deserve love. That this world is not worth loving. That it is a mistake. That this world needs to burn. That the old world was better.

She doesn't agree with a single thing that “voice of reason” has to say. Thinks it's utter horseshit. Lavellan doesn't agree that Solas cannot be stopped. Cannot be swayed. Her love presents the impossible, more so than anything she has faced but Lavellan has never lost a war. She has never done anything halfway, never taken the easy route. Even with half an arm and half her heart, she will rise. She will not submit to the anger threatening. She will not succumb to despair. She will step out of the dark she found herself in these past years. She will bring the light.

_Just as you did for me._

Lavellan stands. Her eyes harden with resolve. Her soul writhes within her, searching the other side of her missing reflection for its kindred friend.

She is the last of them-- of their broken, tangled hearts. Taking her blood, Lavellan paints the mirror surface. A reminder, to him and to her, of where she came from. Of what it felt like to lose that. Of the deep, volatile sort of madness that brings, madness that can consume you so easily if left untreated. That she _understands_.

She went to Wycome and killed those who killed her people. She sought vengeance when she shouldn't have. To right a wrong she committed. In the madness of the journey she committed a new wrong-- honorless, bloody vengeance. They did not see her coming. They did not see her go. Mythal, Wycome still didn't know why so many woke the next morning only to witness horrific scenes of silent slaughter.

 _Oh, vhenan. If only you had told me. I could have grieved with you. Convinced you that this was not the way. Shared with you_ why.

The symbol of Clan Lavellan stains the glass when she turns to go. The remnants of her strength wither but she remains standing, continues on her path. She will never forget what it felt like to give into despair. She will always remember and she will not give into it again. Even if her greatest love turned out to be the Great Betrayer. Lavellan will heed Keeper Deshanna’s words, reform them and bind them to her heart. A promise. To her. To them. To Solas.

Come what may, she is the last of Lavellan. Never again shall she submit to despair.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys like this!! It's been so long since I've written Solavellan-- not that I've ever been big on that but wow. These guys kill me. I mean. OUCH. You trying to kill me, Patrick?! 
> 
> Please let me know what you think! What parts you liked! Which ones got away from me and didn't make sense, etc. Writers live for praise/constructive criticism aka words from humans, you know? We wither like houseplants without it. 
> 
> Give me sunshine babes and comment when you kudos!


End file.
